


Diversion

by betsybo



Series: Mix Up [1]
Category: Bad News (The Comic Strip Presents...), The Comic Strip Presents..., The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, First Time, Frottage, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, mentions of unrequited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betsybo/pseuds/betsybo
Summary: February, 1985Rick meets Vim Fuego, a complete bastard who strongly reminds him of someone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own neither The Young Ones, Bad News, or any of either show’s characters. I am just playing with them.
> 
> I don't really know where this came from. I think I've wanted to do a crossover for a while, and was unable to make it funny or anything. Everything just kept going into more angsty territory, especially the Rick/Vim subject. And I feel bad, but Rick’s a bit... broken? I'm sorry, he just came out that way :/
> 
> If you haven’t seen either of the Bad News films, I highly recommend them, along with the other Comic Strip Presents shows. Vim Fuego is Adrian Edmondson’s character, and Colin Grigson is Rik Mayall’s.

Febuary, 1985

 

 

‘Colin! Oi, Colin!’

 

Rick flinched at how close the shouting voice was now. He kept walking.

 

‘Coliiin!’

 

Rick tutted and walked a little faster.

 

‘Come on, you tosser.’

 

Rick finally whirled around. It _was_ the longhaired bastard from the bar he passed by every Tuesday and Friday that was shouting at him. The blond man was usually smoking outside, and always sneered at Rick whenever he saw him. This, in itself, wasn’t entirely unusual, but even Rick had been surprised that a complete stranger had so taken against him. Especially some reactionary bastard in flares.

 

‘You’re not Colin,’ said the bloke, stopping in his tracks.

 

‘ _No_ ,’ said Rick sharply, eyes wide with exasperation. ‘And I’m not Neil Armstrong, either!’ He grinned at his own joke, preparing to walk off again, but the man wasn’t listening to him; he’d begun circling him. 

 

‘God, you look like him,’ he said, and then smirked. ‘Sound a bit like him, too. No offence.’

 

‘ – What?’ said Rick.

 

‘Vyv.’

 

Rick nearly fell over. ‘ _What_?’ he repeated hoarsely.

 

‘ _Vim_ ,’ stressed the man petulantly. ‘I’m Vim Fuego.’

 

Rick swallowed. His heart fluttered uncomfortably, and he tried to calm himself. The man had said ‘Vim’, and although Rick didn’t believe for a second it was his real name, he had said ‘Vim’. _Vim_. Not Vyv. He barely registered Vim telling him he had a band, not that it meant much to him anyway. He didn’t really know any bands. It finally occurred to him that Vim had just introduced himself and was waiting for him to say something, and he suddenly felt rather lost.

 

‘Er, my name’s Rick,’ he said at last.

 

Vim didn’t say anything, but smirked deeper and Rick cringed slightly. That look was familiar. Too familiar.

 

‘Well, goodbye,’ Rick said shortly, and walked away.

 

‘Hey, Rick!’ called Vim.

 

‘What _now_?’ asked Rick, turning back again.

 

‘You like heavy metal?’ asked Vim, approaching casually as though Rick hadn’t tried to halt their conversation.

 

‘No?’ Rick replied stupidly. He knew it was a music genre, but couldn’t recall anything from the term, only that it was something to do with rock music, and given Vim’s clothes, he guessed some kind of terrible mixture with hippie crap, and that it sounded just _awful_.

 

‘Nah, I didn’t think so,’ replied Vim. ‘My music’s more subtle than that, anyway. How old are you?’

 

‘I – why?’ Rick said, and then blushed deeply. Of _course_ he knew why. He just couldn’t believe it. Vim was pulling that face again; the knowing smirk that kind of made Rick want to punch him. Rick huffed. ‘You _knew_ I wasn’t Colin,’ he said accusatorily.

 

‘Kind of,’ said Vim. ‘But, the hair – I did think, maybe...’ Vim trailed off, then shook his head. ‘He’s such a prick.’

 

Rick flinched. ‘And how old are _you_?’ he asked quickly.

 

‘Twenty-seven.’

 

‘I’m twenty-two.’

 

Vim grinned. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘You want a drink?’

 

Rick spluttered, ‘Well – ’

 

‘I’ve got my own place,’ Vim cut in. ‘I’ll drive us there, yeah?’

 

‘Oh, _will_ you?’ said Rick, snorting. The _nerve_ of this bastard, really. ‘Well, I don’t remember saying I’d go with you, actually.’

 

Vim rolled his eyes. ‘So do you want to, then?’ he asked, crossing his arms and looking expectant.

 

Rick blinked. No one ever asked him out. Well, no one asked him into their homes, anyway. It would be a stupid thing to do, probably, considering Vim’s fascist manner and horrible dress sense, and yet...

 

‘ – All right,’ said Rick, barely hearing himself. But he wasn’t doing anything today. Retaking for college was just as boring as the first time around, except now he was actually going to some of the classes, if only to avoid being at the house all day. And besides, if Vim were a girl, Mike would probably greatly approve of Rick’s decision, or try to meet Vim himself.

 

Vim snickered, nodding over his shoulder for Rick to follow him. Rick bit his lip and did so; walking beneath the bridge the bar was next to and towards a narrow street.

 

_What are you doing? What are you doing?_

 

Vim didn’t seem to share his reservations. He waited for Rick to fall into step beside him and had the same, smug, slightly bored look on his face as he usually did.

 

Vim’s car was parked only a few houses along; a rather normal little old Ford.

 

‘You a student?’ asked Vim as they both climbed in.

 

‘Sociology,’ said Rick, nodding. He was about to explain that he was a poet, too, but then paused. Vim would take the piss, as everyone always did. And although he didn’t bloody well care what other people thought, too much scorn from Vim would doubtless kill any of the more positive sensations he was evoking in Rick. Besides, so far, Rick didn’t really have much desire to share any of his poetry with Vim. It wasn’t really the time.

 

Starting the car up, Vim gave him an odd look when he didn’t continue. ‘Oh yeah?’

 

‘This is actually my second attempt; the second time round, I mean,’ Rick said in a rush as they drove off. He cringed inwardly again; why was he telling Vim _this_? But despite being unable to stand the derisive tone of Vim’s voice, the silence was much worse. ‘I had to reapply because I hardly did any of the work.’

 

Vim grunted, watching the road. ‘So you failed.’

 

‘ _No_ , I just... didn’t do as well as I’d hoped. It doesn’t matter, I mean,’ he said, drawing himself up. ‘I just – _don’t care_ , you know?’

 

Vim snorted derisively. ‘Yeah, well, good luck with that.’

 

Rick grimaced to himself, irritated. They continued on in the quiet for another few minutes.

 

What if he asks you to do something you don’t want to do? Rick thought. What if he asks you to do something and you don’t know what it _is_?

 

‘What about you?’ Rick finally asked.

 

‘Told you, didn’t I? I’ve got a band; _Bad News_ ,’ Vim drawled.

 

They slowed upon reaching a narrow road, Vim swearing as he attempted to park between two other cars.

 

‘You’re not doing anything else, then? _I_ thought you worked at that wine bar,’ Rick said scathingly when they finally stopped.

 

Vim guffawed, leaning forward as he curled in on himself over the steering wheel. ‘Fuck no! That’s – where I meet my manager. He’s French.’ He laughed absurdly again. ‘” _Work at the wine bar”_ ; that’s a good one!’

 

‘But you’re popular,’ Rick pressed, his face positively burning now; ‘to not be working on the side?’

 

Vim’s chuckling stopped abruptly. ‘Well, you know, it’s not like a _business_. No, it _is_ , but it’s bigger than that, you know? I reckon you’ll have seen us on the telly at some point.’

 

‘Really?’

 

‘Yeah. Been on _The Tube_ , stuff like that.’

 

They got out of the car, and Rick found himself staring at a rather small, grubby looking house. He scoffed quietly to himself as Vim, not paying attention to him, walked to the front door and unlocked it. Following him in, Rick _supposed_ Vim could be one of those weird, experimental celebrities whose grimy living was self-imposed. Somehow, he doubted this, although, even with all the very prevalent _Bad News_ flyers lying about on the floor and stuck haphazardly on the walls, with – yes – there was Vim, pulling an horrible face on a few of them. There appeared to be four members of _Bad News_ , from what he could tell in the dimly lit hallway. They were _all_ longhaired, wearing face-paint, and sporting embellished leather and flares. Gits.

 

‘Don’t the rest of the band come to your meetings?’ he asked Vim as he removed his coat, now nervous as they made their way into the living room. It was messy, too, like the hall, but nothing as bad as Rick’s house. The curtains were still drawn, so Vim switched the main light on.

 

‘We’re taking a break at the moment,’ Vim explained, sitting down on the very low sofa. ‘Everyone’s out “finding himself”, you know? Or “finding” chicks.’

 

‘ _Women_ ,’ corrected Rick, and dumped his coat over a chair in the corner.

 

Vim shot him a look, then. He seemed annoyed at first, and then... pleased? ‘Proper little college boy, aren’t we?’ he said darkly, peering up at him.

 

Rick shivered.

 

Vim sat back, his knees separating slightly. ‘Come sit down,’ he said, patting the seat beside him.

 

Rick did, eyeing Vim with interest as the other man put his arm around his shoulders. Vim leaned in closer, smirking that _bloody_ smirk.

 

I’m not kissing you until you kiss me, thought Rick as Vim paused to look him over. He wasn’t stupid; this entire thing could be some kind of trap, and if Vim really had been on TV, he could have a camera stashed somewhere.

 

Vim finally broke the distance, kissing Rick gently at first, before pressing firmer against him. It was different to what Rick had recently been imagining his first kiss might be like. Vim smelled faintly of cigarettes, but beneath that it wasn’t the familiar scent Rick knew he really craved. There was quite a bit more stubble than Rick had realised was there because of Vim’s pale hair and complexion, and there was no nasal piercing pressing against him.

 

Rick’s eyes had closed when Vim kissed him, and it would be too embarrassing to open them again now. He relaxed back against the sofa, as Vim’s other arm came around to hold his torso, and carefully kissed back when Vim’s tongue touched his lips. He noted that Vim also tasted cleaner than he’d expected.

 

Vim made a contented sound under his breath, and adjusted them both slightly; leaning in further, and pulling Rick towards him into an altogether more comfortable position. His other hand, still behind Rick’s ear, thumbed gently at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t have known, but this was where Rick’s left pigtail once was. Both of them had singed right off after the bus incident, and he’d only bothered to grow them back out again the one time, then cut them off to see if a certain person would notice, which he hadn’t.

 

Rick pulled away then, and Vim took this opportunity to nudge Rick away and down, onto his back along the sofa. Rick went passively, allowing Vim to climb atop him, knees bent on either side of his thighs.

 

Vim leant down for another kiss. Everything was quiet, save for the smack of their lips and shuffling of bodies. Vim’s long hair was brushing along Rick’s face and neck; tickling his ears. His stubble was scratching lightly along Rick’s chin and upper-lip. Rick found he didn’t mind the sensation; it was distracting him from his worrying over whether his snogging was any good. So far, he was basically mirroring everything Vim did; each lick and forward push. Vim wasn’t smirking (bloody at _last_ ), so that had to be a good sign.

 

Vim stretched his legs out, lowering himself completely on top of Rick without breaking the kiss. He was quite heavy; again, not as heavy as Rick might have thought, but still a nice weight to be beneath. Rick placed his hands on Vim’s shoulders; humming quietly.

 

After a while of kissing in this position, Vim’s hands started wandering; down over Rick’s chest, just under his ribs where he was slightly ticklish. He focused on this area for a bit, chuckling at every little twitch Rick gave, encouraging them by rubbing his crotch against him, before Rick caught both his hands in his own.

 

‘ _No_ ,’ was all Rick said; diving back in for another kiss before Vim could respond.

 

This time, Rick placed a hand on Vim’s head, gently threading his fingers through the locks. Vim groaned appreciatively against Rick’s mouth, moving his hand back to Rick’s chest to brush over his nipples through his shirt. Rick gasped; he loved this. He often toyed with his nipples when he was touching himself. He was hard now; straining against the zipper on his jeans. After a short while, he broke the kiss again.

 

‘I need to – ’ he began, shifting beneath Vim.

 

‘What, already?’ said Vim, raising an eyebrow as he stared down at him.

 

‘No, no,’ said Rick, flushing bright red, as he tugged at the waistband of his jeans. ‘I need to take these off.’

 

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Vim, laughing.

 

‘Bastard.’

 

Vim just cackled again. He sat back, undoing the fly on his own jeans as Rick did the same. His erection was big and already dampening the front of his underwear, and Rick considered touching it, but then thought again.

 

Rick tried to sit further up so he could push his jeans down, but Vim wouldn’t move off his thighs. Instead, Vim grabbed a hold of Rick’s jeans and yanked them down himself, as far as they would go. He scowled, and raised himself up more, to slide Rick’s jeans down past his knees.

 

Suddenly, he was back on top of Rick, and – _oh God_ – it felt _really_ good. Vim was thrusting steadily now, producing a wonderful throbbing where the pressure was greatest; their cocks starting to wet their underwear through.

  
Rick wriggled slightly, freeing his right knee from beneath Vim so that he could bend it; pressing his foot into the sofa and _really_ grind up against Vyvyan.

 

‘ _Vyv_ ,’ he breathed, barely audible.

 

‘Ha,’ said Vim, panting. ‘That’s right, say it.’

 

Oh, yes. This was Vim. _Vim_. Vim Fuego of _Bad News_. Vim, Vim, _Vim_!

 

‘Vim!’ Rick cried.

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘Viiiiih...’

 

‘Yes!’

 

‘Oh, God!’

 

‘Oh, Colin, _fuck_!’

 

Rick moaned loudly as his cock pulsed, and he felt Vim shake against him; soaking them both where he was still grinding against him lazily. Finally, they both stilled, and Vim collapse against him.

 

Sooner than Rick would have liked, Vim rolled off him and stood. He seemed... off, suddenly. Annoyed. Maybe with Rick, or himself.

 

‘I’m not queer,’ said Vim. ‘This is just – you know...’ He gestured vaguely between the two of them. ‘It’s just good for tension, yeah?’

 

‘Right,’ said Rick.

 

And although it was infuriating, and he knew that even Vim didn’t believe his own lie, he understood. Colin, whoever he was, and whether it was lust, love, unrequited or mutual; he was Vim’s problem, just like Vyvyan was Rick’s. Any other day he might have complained that he hadn’t been offered so much as a glass of water, but it really was time to leave.

 

They were both still shining with sweat, and Rick hoped he wasn’t all red. He winced as he stood and pulled his jeans back up over his sodden Y-fronts.

 

‘Want me to drop you back?’ said Vim, pulling his own jeans up without looking at Rick. ‘I've got to practise now, so, you know, I can’t go far.’

 

‘No, no, that’s fine,’ mumbled Rick, tucking his shirt in and flattening his hair down.

 

‘Go left, to the end of the street and then left again,’ said Vim. ‘You’ll see the Underground from there.’

 

‘Thanks,’ said Rick, retrieving his coat and putting it on.

 

‘And don’t tell anyone about me. It doesn’t make any sense – me and _you_ hanging out. Everyone will figure it out.’

 

Rick wrinkled his nose at Vim distastefully. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t tell my best friend.’ Who doesn’t exist, he thought.

 

‘Good.’

 

Vim didn’t see Rick out. Instead, he sat on the sofa, apparently unbothered by his wet crotch. Rick made sure he’d straightened himself up enough, and that his coat obscured all evidence of this encounter.

 

‘You know where to find me if you need me again,’ said Vim, reaching down the side of the sofa for something.

 

‘I don’t need you,’ snapped Rick suddenly.

 

Vim looked up at him, still searching, face twisted in amusement yet again. ‘’Course not.’

 

Rick nodded at him, before marching out into the hall. He considered calling goodbye, but thought better of it as the definite sound of automatic, electronic music rang out, followed by harsh swearing. He opened the front door, and left.

 

What a spazzy! he thought.

 

 

 

 

No one looked up from the telly as Rick walked in. There was no reason to; he was only about twenty minutes later than he would usually have been.

 

Rick walked into the kitchen, looking along the back of the sofa at the three heads above it, all facing the television. It would have been a completely ordinary sight, were it not for the person sitting on the end, who was not Mike, as he’d been hoping. _She_ was here a lot now, always beside Vyvyan, with his arm around her.

 

Becca, the new addition to the flat, who wasn’t really new, because she’d started coming over about four months ago. She was fine, really. Quiet. Almost ordinary. Rick didn’t really see the attraction either way, but that was how things were now. Boring cow.

 

He gave Vyvyan's long, pale arm one last look, before shaking his head, heading back out to the hall, and up the stairs.

 

He needed a bath.


End file.
